So, this Sunday morning, I woke up with a song in my heart and hurried to bake my lovely French toast casserole for my family.
I had a beautifully set table—my ivory china plates with the gold edging, placed with perfect linen napkins. A lovely crystal bowl with silk pink roses gave the table the perfect touch of color. My casserole was in one of my favorite dishes, an ivory enameled porcelain pan decorated with pink rosebuds.
Of course, as we gathered around the table, we all missed Mandy. She was still in her cozy bed in one of our two guest bedrooms. But who could blame the poor darlin’? After the events of yesterday, she certainly needed to catch up on her rest.
After Henry’s prayer, the men dug in. How I love to watch men enjoy good food. Of course, I had warmed the maple syrup, and that was the perfect topper to my dish.
I didn’t eat as much as they did. How could I? Even so, I knew Jane Fonda and I would be dancing to the beat later this afternoon, to make sure all that bread didn’t stick to my hips.
After breakfast, Henry, Nelson, and I headed for church. We left the recovering Mandy and her adoring husband back at the condo. Honestly, they really were cute together. There they sat, cuddled on my pink velvet sofa; she was all sniffles, talking about their impending separation, while he held her close. How dear. It made my heart swell with love for them both.
I was glad we were making this trip to our quaint little Grace Church this morning. The building itself was a charming clapboard structure that had been around since the mid-1800s, when this area had been a busy gold rush town. The structure would almost be too small if the powers that be hadn’t seen fit to add on an educational unit for Sunday school and other events.
How I enjoyed the drive. The morning was beautiful. The sky was blue, but there was just enough moisture in the air to create a frozen mist, which sparkled as if a crystal snow dome had been stirred to rain down glitter.
I loved the way the fresh snow glistened on the adorable antique shops, including my bridal boutique. It was all like a fairyland.
As we pulled in the parking lot, I saw Evie and Goldie walking toward the church. I waved, but they didn’t. Maybe they hadn’t seen me, but I’m guessing they were giving me the cold shoulder.
It was time for a little damage control.
After bustling around the church hallways for a few minutes, I saw my prey stepping outside his office just before the Sunday school hour. Pastor Kevin Moore, recent widower and best prospect for my dating service. This was my opportunity to quell any forthcoming rumors about me.
The pastor really was a handsome man. Though I think the shock of grief had grayed him a little more around the temples. Still, it only made him look even more distinguished.
I gave him my best smile. “Pastor, I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”
“Mrs. Lambert. How are you this morning?”
“Please, call me Lisa Leann. Pastor, I’ve been praying for you since Jan died. How are you doing?”
His eyes moistened. “Honestly, it’s been tough. It’s no secret that Jan was the love of my life.”
“Well, I’m happy to tell you I may be the solution to that.”
He raised his eyebrows, but before he could comment I rushed on. “But first, I wanted to stop to ask you to pray for the dear ladies of the Potluck Club.”
His eyes brightened. “How are Evangeline and her gang?” he asked.
I shook my head somberly. “Not very well, Pastor. In fact, that’s why the ladies need your prayers. Everything is falling apart. Even my own daughter, Mandy, who’s seven months pregnant, spent the evening in the ER with early contractions and is now on complete bed rest. Then, there’s Evangeline, who is going through a terrible breakup with Sheriff Vesey.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, and Lizzie’s son has recently left his wife and has moved home to stay, not to mention poor Goldie—who needs prayer after she left her cheating husband. She’s up to something too, I think. Then of course, you probably don’t know about Vonnie. How her secret past has come back to haunt her? Though if you have time, I’d be happy to fill you in on the details. And then there’s Donna—”
“My goodness, Lisa Leann, that’s probably more information than I needed to know. But I promise you, I will pray.”
“Oh, good. That’s a burden off my shoulders. I’ve carried this all by myself. That’s one of the reasons I came to you. Not only am I the answer to your problems, as I said, I think you are the answer to mine.”
I smiled and batted my eyes, and the pastor shifted, darting his eyes around those passing by in the hallway. Why was he suddenly so nervous?
Just then Miss Evangeline Benson stood in front of us. “Pastor,” she said, totally ignoring me, “I needed to ask you about the Christmas Tea. I know that was Jan’s special project. But has anyone else been tapped to host it this year?”
My ears pricked up at that. “A Christmas tea? I’d love to help!”
Evangeline shot me a warning glance then turned back to the pastor. He replied, “That’s a good question, Evangeline. Do you think the ladies of the Potluck, Lisa Leann included, would like to take a shot at it?”
I spoke for us all when I said, “Of course we would. Just this instant, while you were talking, I got the whole event planned and organized in my head. In fact, I’m hosting a baby shower Taste of Disaster for my daughter next Saturday; the ladies and I will talk about it then.”
The pastor smiled at us both. “Perfect. I’ll leave you two to the details. And if you would pardon me, I’m teaching the junior boys today, so I’ve got to scoot.”
With that, he slipped into the crowd and out of sight.
Evangeline turned to me. “Just what do you think you were doing?”
“Just asking for prayer for my dear Mandy. You know she spent last night in the ER.”
Her frosty gaze melted just a bit. “What happened?”
“Oh, it was just terrible. She’s seven months pregnant, you know, and she fell in the kitchen. She was having severe contractions. Now the doctor’s put her on complete bed rest. She can’t even leave for home, and she’s going to have to take a leave of absence from her teaching job.”
Evie’s eyes softened all the more. “Oh, my goodness.”
“She’ll be in my good care, so all is not lost.”
“But what was that bit I overheard you tell Pastor?”
I crossed my arms uneasily. “Which bit was that?”
“How he’s the answer to your problems and you’re the answer to his? Do you know how that sounded?”
“Yes! I’m going to get him a date.”
“With you?”
I gave her a sideways look. “Don’t be silly. I’m married. I’m talking about my new dating service. Hey, and since Vernon didn’t work out for you, and if Bob has the same fate, which seems likely in my opinion, we should talk. I’m sure I could find a good match for you.”
Evie began to back away. “Ah, no. No thanks. I’m late for class, Lisa Leann. I’ll have to catch you later, especially now that the pastor has assigned the two of us to work on the Christmas Tea.”
She turned just in time to run smack into Bob Burnett. Luckily, he had only just walked up, missing my offer to help Evie find another beau. Whew!
But come to think of it, I’d have to slip around and make my dating service offer to him as well. Still, I couldn’t see what Evie saw lisa leann in the man. I knew he was a Grace deacon, but I’d heard he had never married, which of course makes you wonder. Not only that, Bob certainly wasn’t much to look at. He was skinny as a stick, and with his bald head and arching eyebrows, he looked like he belonged in a comic strip. Though, to be honest, it was my understanding he had a lot of property holdings in the area. And with the price of real estate around here, the man had to be a millionaire, maybe even several times over. Okay, I could see why Evie might be interested. In some regards, Bob had a lot more to offer than that handsome sheriff. I grinned. Sheriff Vesey was y
et another candidate for my matchmaking skills.
This was a proud moment for me. Look at all that I had accomplished since I had arrived from Texas only a few short months ago. I was giving the Potluck Club a new chance to regroup—starting at my house with an invitation to Mandy’s baby shower. Then I would offer them a wonderful project, a Christmas Tea, no less. That could bring the girls together. Plus, I would have my precious daughter all to myself. Besides, preparing for a tea would give her something to do too. There would be so many little details and projects she could help with, right from her bed—like cutting out doodads to be glued on name tags and the like. It would be important to make her feel productive and keep her away from the blues.
I turned to head to the adult Sunday school class I’d joined with Henry and found myself staring at the sweetest sight. Standing in front of me were two young lovebirds. I’d never noticed them together before. “Allen and Becky from the singles class?” I asked. “I didn’t know you two were dating. How long have you been together?” Becky blushed, and Allen beamed. “Just since last week,” Allen admitted.
Becky added coyly, “I never thought he would ask me out, and then when he did, we just clicked.”
I had to ask. “So, what prompted you to call Becky, Allen?”
Becky giggled and answered for him. “It was that new column in the Gold Rush News, ‘Aunt Ellen Explains It.’”
“Explains Everything,” I corrected.
“Yes, that’s it. Did you read the letter signed ‘Fraidy Cat,’ the one about the man who never acted on his attraction to his friend? Well, when Allen read that, he knew it was somehow written just for him. He went immediately to the telephone and dialed me up and asked me for a date.” She giggled again. “Of course, I said yes.”
I opened my red Brighton purse and pulled out one of my brandnew business cards and handed it to Becky. “I know this may be a bit premature, but if you decide to tie the knot, call me up. I’ll give you two a very special discount.”
Becky read the card and batted her eyes. “Well, you never know,” she said.
“By the way,” I added. “Isn’t your singles group short on teachers? Maybe Henry and I could step in.”
Allen said, “That would be an answer to prayer.”
27
Will the Next Mrs. Pastor Kevin Please Stand Up?
Clay enjoyed being at Higher Grounds on Sunday afternoons.
Well, technically, he arrived early morning for breakfast, returned home for a while, then came back a little before noon. A few minutes after noon meant losing his seat to some of the churchgoing crowd.
Clay especially enjoyed the hour or so when the Grace crowd came in. They would have just come out of church, but for the most part they could be easily persuaded to talk about one another. Of course, these days, everything was fixed on Pastor Kevin’s loss.
And, for a few of the single ladies—the opportunity to become the new Mrs. Pastor Kevin. That new development alone was like a toy box for Clay’s sense of humor.
The women were like vultures.
But, for Clay, they were like the gravy on Sal’s mashed potatoes, which he, according to his diet, could no longer eat.
28
Serving Trouble
After my trip to balmy L.A., I had to wonder why I punished myself with these late-night hours in such frigid weather. And tonight was no exception. The Gold Mine Bank’s digital sign proclaimed the evening chill to have already fallen to 20 degrees, and Weather. com had predicted the night’s low at 8 degrees Fahrenheit. Brrrrrr. As I was on duty, I’d have to somehow stay defrosted until 2:00 in the morning when I could finally curl up in the warmth of my bed.
I slowed my Bronco to drive by the Higher Grounds Café, trying to see if Clay’s blue jeep was parked outside. All was clear. I realized I’d been holding my breath as I pulled into an empty parking spot just outside the restaurant. Clay was someone I had to avoid. How I had successfully maneuvered around him since my return, I just couldn’t explain. Well, yes, I could. I’d stayed away from Higher Grounds because I couldn’t face Clay’s questions yet—not about David, not about Goldie, and certainly not about Vonnie.
I’d really missed my visits.
I grimaced and wondered if Clay had figured out Vonnie and David’s little secret. I hoped not, but then Clay was smart, and reading people was his game. If he suspected the truth, any response on my face would confirm it.
I was one who didn’t want to be read, not by Clay, or any man, for that matter.
I pushed open the café door and heard the bell jingle above my head. The place was hopping tonight. Must be Sal’s new menu. She’d been working to spruce up the place, and it appeared to be paying off. The pine tables were varnished to a shine, and her new bakery case was full of delectable offerings like white chocolate macadamia cookies, homemade cinnamon bread, and cherry cobbler. In fact, it was the baked goods that lured me to take the risk of coming in.
Earlier this afternoon, hoping to avoid Higher Grounds, I’d packed my lunch, filling my jumbo thermos with taco soup hot off the stove top.
Later, as I had driven through the dark streets of Summit View, the lights of the restaurant had beckoned me. Feeling a little hungry, I realized I needed some hot coffee and a slice of fresh corn bread to go with my soup. So here I was, risking everything for a piece of bread and a cup of joe.
“Hey, Donna.”
I looked up, surprised to see Wade Gage standing at the cash register with Pastor Moore. The pastor nodded in my direction, and I nodded back. “Kind of cold to be on the beat tonight, isn’t it?” he said.
Wade patted me on the back. “Don’t worry about Donna; she’s pretty tough, aren’t you, babe?”
Babe? I decided to ignore the remark and go straight to satisfying my curiosity. “So, are you two having dinner together?”
The two men looked at each other before the pastor answered. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact. I’ve been having dinner here more often since Jan died, and Wade and I have struck up a friendship.”
My radar went up. “Really. So the two of you have dinner here on a regular basis?”
Wade nodded. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“I would think that would interfere with your, uh, lifestyle, Wade. Aren’t you running late for the tavern?”
Wade folded his arms over his grease-stained denim work shirt. He gave me a half smile. “The pastor here is talking to me about turning over a new leaf. What he’s saying is making a lot of sense.”
My eyebrows shot up. Wade’s getting religion? Wonders will never cease.
Sally rang up Pastor Moore’s bill, and he momentarily turned his back to us.
“Is this ‘new leaf ’ business why you want to talk?” I asked my former beau.
“Partly.” He took his hat off and held it behind his back. “But Donna, you know good and well that we have unfinished business between the two of us.”
This time, I crossed my arms. “I don’t think we have any unfinished business, Wade. Our past is said and done.”
The pastor turned around. “Trust me, Donna, I don’t think Wade is trying to make a move on you as it might appear.”
Wade added, “Right, I only want to tell you something.”
I felt my temperature rise. “So, tell me.”
The two men looked at each other, then the pastor spoke up. “This wouldn’t be the time or place. How about I see you both in my office, let’s say 1:00 tomorrow?”
I started to say no. I mean, these two men had ganged up on me, and that was reason enough to tell them to take a hike. But something stopped me. Possibly it was the look in Wade’s eyes—pure pain. He said, “I’m sorry we put you on the spot. But I kept the promise I made to you at the bank. Now it’s your turn to keep your promise to me.”
I think my mouth was still open when the bell jingled over the front door. I turned to see—oh no—Clay Whitefield looking almost gleeful.
I turned back to the men. “Okay. I k
now I’m going to regret this, but okay.”
Clay walked up. “Doing a little street evangelism to the local sinners, Pastor?”
Pastor Moore chuckled. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you at church, Clay. So anytime you want to talk …”
Clay rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Very good, Pastor. You’ve managed to corner another backslider.”
Wade and Pastor Moore said their good-byes and walked out into the bitter cold. The frigid air that blew in reminded me of what I was in for tonight. Clay continued to stand behind me as if he, too, were waiting in line.
“How was your trip, Donna?”
“Not so great.”
Clay looked absolutely relieved by this news. “Sorry to hear that.”
Larry the cook took his place behind the counter to take my order. “Why, if it isn’t the Ticket Master.”
“Ha-ha. Just give me a large coffee and a big hunk of your corn bread, to go.”
Larry grinned at me. He really wasn’t a bad guy, but he always looked a little, well, greasy, with his dirty apron and slicked-back hair and hairnet. “Coming up,” he said.
When he came back with my order, instead of ringing it up, he leaned on one elbow and stared me down. “Donna, I’ve been thinking about you lately.”
Uh-oh.
Clay moved closer so he could watch this obvious come-on. I tried not to grimace. It appeared Larry was another fan of Lisa Leann’s “Fraidy Cat” column. With that realization, I tried to keep my cool. “Really.”
“Yeah, I was asking myself why a cute girl such as yourself was still unattached, and I decided it was because she hasn’t met the right man.”
I nodded. “That’s a fair bet.”
“Your search is over.” He smiled at me, showing the large gap between his teeth. “Here I am. I know you like my cooking. Let’s say you and I go out. Though, no speeding tickets. Okay?”
“Flattered by your offer, Larry. But I don’t think so.”
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